Total Duncney Action
by edwardandbella4evah
Summary: You know you always wanted to see more Duncney during TDA. So what exactly happened behind the scenes? Collab with Contemperina.
1. One Million Bucks BC

**A/N: Okay, so this is super duper old, and has been sitting in my mailbox for well.. years. This was an old collab that both I, and fellow author Contemperina wrote. These are Duncney interactions from behind the scenes on the episodes we loved so much. I felt like sharing it with you all, thinking that after the disaster that is TDAS, you would enjoy it. **

**Enjoy, loves.**

I cautiously crept my way to the communal washrooms, towel clutched tightly in my fists to cover my shivering, drenched frame. Damn Chris for not telling me that the water heater in my private bathroom was broken _before_ I went to take a shower. Kindness? A foreign concept to him.

No, he made me find that lovely fact out for myself, forcing me to stomp over to him—clad in nothing but my towel—soaked, just so he could smile at a thousand watts and tell me, "Oops! Forgot to mention that to ya. I suggest going to the communal washrooms for tonight." As soon as I'd taken a proper shower and had gotten a good night's sleep, I'd be suing Chris all over the place with my lawyers.

Shivering from the cold—it was dusk, and the horizon was quickly swallowing up what little sun was left—I glanced around at my surroundings to make sure I was alone. Hastily opening the door to the washrooms and dashing inside, I stayed still for a few short moments, listening for any odd noises, which would have revealed another presence in the building.

Fortunately hearing nothing, I turned on the water to one of the crappy showers, took off my towel, and stepped into the filthy stall, sandals still in contact with my feet. I didn't want to get some nasty, fungus-y disease from the filth-ridden shower floor! Who knew what kind of infections were lurking there, especially considering that Owen had no-doubt showered on the very spot I was standing. Taking this into consideration, along with all the filth from the day's tar set… _Ugh!_ The mere thought of showering made me shudder, and that wasn't a normal response.

Trying to push such thoughts out of my mind, I let the warm—_barely_ warm, for the record—water run over me, washing the grime from my body and hair. It wasn't clean, and it wasn't filtered, but it was still water and felt amazing on my skin. I did my best to enjoy the feeling, so it was only after I'd washed my hair with all my beauty products that I actually took a serious look down at the floor. When I did, I screamed. Loudly.

"_Duncan!"_ On the shower floor was a thick, black, gooey, sticky tar mess that someone had conveniently "forgotten" to clean. After a second's thought, I knew he was the one who'd left it there.

The only other possible suspects were Lindsay and Justin, whom I knew weren't planning on showering because of how good Lindsay claimed the tar was for their skin; Heather and Harold, whom I'd just seen trying to stomach something down in the Craft Services tent; or Duncan. _That jerk!_ I squatted down, and, as if to further prove my point, one of his fluorescent green hairs stuck up from the gunk around the drain, mocking me.

"Oh, that disgusting, selfish pig!" I whispered angrily, pounding my fist against the wall after examining the damage the tar had done to my perfect, hundred dollar French pedicure. _Does Chef know how to do nails?_ I wondered. Maybe I could get him to… Never mind. That idea had trouble written all over it. Just the mere thought of Chef with nail scissors and polish scared me half to death. Perhaps I could threaten Chris with lawyerly action unless he let me use his personal spa benefits to get my toenails redone. Better yet, I could sue Duncan for ruining my nails in the first place and then threaten to sue Chris until he let me in on his spa benefits! Now_that_ would show those egotistical jerks.

At some point, I became aware of the fact that the water had run out of what little warmth it'd contained in the first place, so I stepped out, nearly cracking my head open after slipping, thanks to the amount of black tar on my shoes. Angrily grabbing my damp towel, I dried myself off the best I could. Unfortunately, the cloth didn't dry me off completely because I'd just used it earlier, and I cursed Chris in my head yet again.

Seeing that there was nothing I could possibly do to temper the situation, I got dressed in my tiny nightwear. Regrettably, it didn't provide much warmth for my still-dripping torso, but I ignored the drops and grabbed my brush off the counter, beginning to pull it through my large tangles, a result of my shower.

There mirror had fogged over, so I couldn't see what I was doing. Even so, after yanking it through one side and starting on the other, I realized that something was feeling strange—uneven, almost. As if my hair was longer on one side... _No._ That clearly wasn't not possible. Noone had touched my hair besides myself all day! I let out a shaky breath, pushing the thought aside and continuing to work through the knots blindly.

"Stop being so paranoid, Courtney," I told myself shakily. "This stupid competition is getting to you." Yes, I'd said it, but I wasn't feeling confident in my own words. I continued to brush my hair, but when I pulled it away for examination, small clumps of tangled strands were stuck to the brush like glue. Almost nervously, I continued to brush the tangles from the strands, nearly glad that the mirror was so fogged up, I couldn't see a thing; I probably looked terrifying. Alas, there was nothing left to brush out after a few more minutes, and with much force, I ran a hand throughone side of my hair to calm down my jittery nerves.

"Everything is fine..." I told myself. "Everything is fine...Everything is perfectly, one hundred percent fine!" I repeated, running my hand down the other side of my tresses.  
I'd been wrong. So, so, horrifyingly wrong.

Hastily, in a daze, I snatched my towel off the counter and rubbed the condensation from the large, industrial mirror. Revealing my reflection slowly but surely, I gasped in utter horror as I discovered the damage done to my hair. My voice caught in my throat, and the cry I released came out strangled.

"Oh my gosh! WHO DID THIS?!" I screamed at my reflection. Despite the fact that she looked positively livid, she had no answers. I was forced to scrutinize my doppelganger. On one side of my head, my hair lay perfect like usual, clean and untouched. On the other, however, a hefty chunk of hair was missing from the front. A large, noticeably hideous chunk.  
Who could have done that to me? And _why?_ I fingered the shorter-than-the-rest strands delicately, fighting to keep tears from forming in my eyes. Were the other contestants really so jealous? Had someone really sunk so low?

I knew that Lindsay would have never done such a thing. Her hair was lovely—for a blonde, anyway. Besides, she and Beth had hung out together after the challenge, not even coming near me. Heather had been too busy obsessing over that pile of horsehair she was calling a wig, and Leshawna had been ogling Harold—she always denied this when asked, but it was obvious—and none of the guys would have dared touch my hair for fear of what I would do to their 'unmentionables.' Except for, of course, one boy in particular…  
And then it hit me.

"Duncan, you freaking desperado!" I shouted to no one in particular. "When I get my hands on you, so help me God, _I will castrate you!"_ I pounded on the walls with so much force, I was sure I'd left dents in the siding.

How dare that lousy bastard do that to me!? What had I done to him to deserve it, anyway? He bothered me a hundred times more than I ever bothered him! Sure, we'd broken up before, but cutting my hair? Completely unnecessary, not to mention evil! _"UGH!"_ I let out a frustrated cry as I examined the damage yet again, contemplating what I was going to do.

I couldn't go outside like that; everyone would notice and snigger and laugh at me. _Look at her! Doesn't her hair look dreadful?_ The answer, of course, would have been a resounding "yes," which was unacceptable. If there was anything I really couldn't stand, it was being mocked. Perhaps this was why Duncan peeved me so.

Suddenly, the door to the washrooms burst open, and in a sad attempt at covering my ruined hair, I threw my towel on my head and hastily wrapped it like a turban. _Because this isn't too conspicuous_, I thought sarcastically. _Not at all._ I turned around to see who'd interrupted my self-assessment and found myself face to face with the grand offender himself. He took one look at me and stifled a chuckle unsuccessfully.

There! Absolute, unquestionable proof that he was the culprit!

"Well, Princess," he started, leaning in the doorway. "I heard your threat and came dashing over. The least you could've done was be prepared," he remarked smoothly, eying my towel-turban and pajama-clad figure.

I walked over to him slowly, putting on my most murderous death glare. If looks could have killed, he'd have been lying on the floor, twitching uncontrollably. "You—you think this is funny?" I questioned. "Well, it isn't. How could you do this to me!?" I demanded, jabbing a finger at his chest—his bare chest, which I note for posterity's sake _only_—for extra impact.  
His face held a perplexed expression for a moment before he raised his hands in defeat. "I don't know what the Hell you're talking about, Sweetheart. Care to explain?"

_Liar!_ I mentally accused. _Filthy, filthy liar._ He knew exactly what was going on; I could see it from the amusement in his eyes. "You know what I'm talking about," I accused, narrowing my eyes. "I know what you did, so you may as well confess now, so I can get on with castrating you."

His eyes widened slightly as he tried to lower my hands, which had frozen into deformed claws. "Um, Babe," he said, obviously struggling for the right words. As if there _were_ any right words for such a situation. "Before you take any extreme measures here, would you mind telling me why I'm in trouble? You already smashed me once today, and then you yelled at me for it, so…" he trailed off while I cried out angrily, kicking the wall.

With a loud, exaggerated sigh, I yanked off the towel, revealing my almost-dry yet severely ruined hair. His eyes widened slightly, and he chuckled once again. "Now, I'm no hairdresser, Princess," he said, reaching out a hand to look at the offended strands. I swatted it away. "But if you want my two cents, you need to go get that fixed."

I darted forward again and punched at his chest, provoking a complaint or two from him, which I ignored. "You depraved, deficient, inhumane beast! I know you did this to me! _WHY?!_"

"Whoa, whoa, Darling, back up for a second," he hedged, furrowing his eyebrows. "You think I did this?" I nodded hastily, already frustrated with him for denying it for so long. "What would I want with your hair?" he asked honestly. I pondered for a few moments, in which we both remained silent. He had a point, but if it hadn't been him…

Oh. My. Goodness. _Heather_. Heather had been the one complaining about her desperate need for hair. Heather had been the one sneaking around the set, almost like she was stalking me. Heather had been the one who'd "accidentally" snipped my cavegirl costume. She'd probably just chickened out over cutting my hair! First attempt jitters.

"Oh my God," I muttered softly, pushing myself against the wall and weakly sliding down. Suddenly, I found myself unable to stand anymore. "It was Heather," I announced, continuing my train of thought aloud.

Duncan nodded thoughtfully. "See, that makes a lot more sense. Heather's bald. She needs hair," he said, squatting down so he was at my level. "Clearly, your hair is the prettiest in this whole damn place." I blushed as he said this, yet he continued smoothly, not letting any hidden emotion shine through. "So, she opted for cutting yours off and taking it for herself. Luckily for you, she only got _some_ before getting her screwed up wig." I bit my lip.

"Eh, whatever floats her boat," he concluded smoothly, standing up and heading to the sink, beginning to brush his teeth with the utilities he'd brought along with him.

My voice caught in my throat again, and I found myself unable to speak. Instead, I laid my head on my knees to calm myself as Duncan turned on the faucet. What was I going to do? I couldn't leave the washrooms looking like such a mess. Obviously, Heather had gotten what she'd wanted—this alone was enough to leave me in the dumps, but coupled with the fact that my hair was defaced, it seemed like almost too much to bear.

Duncan, noticing that I hadn't uttered a single word since his explanation, looked at me and smirked, a toothbrush dangling from one hand. "Awww. Is her royal highness upset that her hair is spoiled?" he asked with a fake pout. I didn't answer, worried that if I did, my voice would come out strange and choked up.

He chuckled and came over, sitting next to me and twirling a fair amount of my hair around oneof his fingers. "Don't worry. I can fix it for you." I looked at him feverishly, wondering if he was high. Perhaps he was—I wouldn't have put it past him.

He laughed again, continuing to play with my hair. "Woah. If you're that freaked out, you better not sleep tonight." I looked at him curiously. In explanation, he said suavely, "Next thing you know, you wake up and the rest of your hair's gone too, courtesy of _moi_." Mimicking scissors with his fingers, he pretended to hack off the piece of hair he'd been twirling.  
I gasped, my hands flying up to my head, shocked that he had the impudence to even consider such a thing. I flew off the cold tile and backed away from him warily. By that point, I'd _known _I wasn't going to get any sleep! Tears sprung to my eyes as an uncontrollable sense of paranoia bloomed at the front of my mind. Perhaps this was all an elaborate prank. What if everyone was out to get me?

Duncan snuck up behind me, wrapping his arms around my bare torso, but was caught off guard by my shaking in his arms. "Hey," he said, his kinder half finally making a much-needed appearance. "You okay?"

"How could I possibly be okay?" I moaned, trying to get a handle on the _Courtney's Waterworks Show._ "Heather's out to steal my hair and make me bald, said hair is completely destroyed, and now you tell me that _you're_ going to cut off my hair while I'm asleep." My voice dropped down to a throttled whisper as I struggled to continue on without crying. "Now, in addition to all of that, I can't sleep," I whispered frantically, my voice barely rising a few octaves. Despite what I wanted, my eyes let loose a tear.

Upon noticing this, Duncan spun me around on my feet and wiped it away with his thumb. "I was just kidding, Princess. You take things too literally." I blanched at this accusation, though I knew it was true. "All right, let me make it up to you," Duncan said, eying me seriously. "I'll fix your hair for you. It'll look good as new."

I scoffed, crossing my arms and rolling my eyes, which had, to a certain degree, dried. "Now I_really_ know that you're going to cut it all off and make this worse. You would never do anything to actually help a situation." As an afterthought, I muttered, "God forbid."

Duncan pulled his head back in mock offense. "I was just trying to be a nice guy. So sue me! …Oh wait, I guess you already have _that_ covered," he added cockily. That one had obviously been prepared for a while. "But hey, if you want to go out like _that_ in public, then by all means, go right ahead."

I huffed, weighing my options carefully; I could take the plunge and let Duncan attempt to fix my hair, or I could camp out in the washrooms until the competition was over. Sadly, it didn't really seem like I had a choice at all. "Fine," I mumbled, wondering if I would live to regret the following words: "You can try to fix my hair, but if you dare cut anything unnecessary, I _will_ castrate you like I promised."

Duncan laughed and gently pushed me to the dirty floor, sitting down behind me and whipping out his switchblade. I winced, but nothing more.

As the time passed, I brought my knees to my chest; I couldn't tell exactly what he was doing back there, but it was taking a long while. From what I could see through the window, the dusk outside had turned into pitch-black night. What if Duncan was secretly cutting large amounts of hair, just to irritate me? It was a possibility, but it was too late—there was nothing I could do. If I stopped him then… Bad idea. Bad, bad, bad idea.

After what seemed like an eternity, he stood up, lending me a hand. I nervously stood, not knowing what to do. Would it be better to risk looking in the mirror or to never look in the mirror again?

"You _do_ know that you can look at yourself, right?" Duncan asked, gesturing in the direction of the sinks and, beyond those, the mirror.

I nodded, cautiously making my way over. I felt around for the offending area and examined it. Where butchered hair had once lied, it looked almost…normal. The severed strands were hidden rather skillfully, I had to admit.

I grimaced anyway, knowing that my hair wouldn't be completely restored unless I cut it all to the same, short length, but Hell would freeze over before I even thought of letting Duncan handle that! _That_would just have to wait until I got home. But for the time being, the haircut was acceptable. More than acceptable, even. It was…_okay_.

"So, whaddaya think?" Duncan asked uneasily, thoughtfully trying to avoid triggering any more anger or hurt.

"It'll do until I get home," I said. ("Okay," after all, was not "perfect" like it had been before.) "Thanks for trying." With that out of the way, I began to gather up my meager belongings, my eyes prickling around the edges.

"You okay, Babe?" Duncan asked, sneaking up behind me—again—and wrapping his arms around my waist—again. I nodded as my answer, not quite sure that I could speak. "You know, I tried," Duncan said defensively. "I did the best I could without breaking any of your demands. Didn't want to lose the family jewels. In fact, I think you'd regret it if you couldn't have children due to my lack of functioning—"

"Shut up, Duncan," I cut him off sharply, sensing where that sentence was headed and not liking it.

"You look fine, Princess," he announced after a second, ruffling my hair with one hand, the other still around me. "No one will care. Just you wait."

I turned around furiously, still in his arms. "I care, Duncan! I don't like going out in public looking anything less than perfect! It's not professional!" Duncan put a hand on my face to caress it, but I promptly shoved it away. Because we were over…Right?

"If it helps," he started, "to me, you always look perfect." With that said he let go of my waist. I stalked out of the washrooms, quite annoyed yet oddly touched. It must have taken him guts to say such a thing. And it was so—so chivalrous. Maybe what I had seen in Duncan last season was still there. Maybe we could be friends, at least.

"Oh, one more thing!" Duncan called after me, sticking his head out the door. He smirked before continuing. "You know, if you need something to take your mind off your hair tonight, I'm always here to give you some relief…" He trailed off suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

I gasped and hurled my hairbrush at his head, disgusted by the mere thought. He slammed the door quickly, so the hairbrush bounced off and landed harmlessly in the grass. "Not in a millionyears, Neanderthal!" I screeched at what I could see of him through the window.

Screw being friends! Polar opposites would work just fine.


	2. Dial M For Merger

**A/N: This chapter was written by the lovely Contemperina (the last one was mine), but we both edited and added. I'm glad you guys enjoyed the last chapter. I don't know if you all wanted Million Dollar Babies, but we didn't do that one. We usually do every other episode.**

"Hey, guys!" Harold announcedexcitedly, splashing around in the tomato juice like a nerd having a spasm. "It's been exactly eleven hours and forty minutes since we got in here. The process is almost complete!" he concluded, making the remaining of us roll our eyes.

Regarding this comment, let me interrupt and ask one question: Have you ever wanted to sit in a tub of tomato juice with a nerd, a dork, a fat version of Beyoncé, and a dude who cries if you mess up his nails, all for twelve straight hours? If you answered yes, then (1) you're crazier than Izzy on steroids, and (2) DON'T DO IT. Don't even ask me why not, because you really don't want to know. Got it?

If you're as perceptive as I am (and you're probably not), you've noticed that Courtney and Lindsay weren't still in the tub when we had twenty minutes left to wait. The reason:

_We've been sitting in this hot-tub turned soup bowl for three hours already when Chris walks up, gas mask on his face. "All right," he says in his best TV show host voice, "challenge winners! You can get out of the soup!" He points to Lindsay beside me and Courtney on the opposite end of the tub. I don't think Courtney being on the opposite end from me is an accident, either…_

_Pretty reasonably (for her), Courtney asks, "But what about the stench? It hasn't been twelve hours! Is this—" She pauses, gesturing to the juice we're all waist-deep in, "—finished?" I figure she doesn't care about the answer, though, because she's already climbing out of it, PDA in hand._

"_Nope!" Chris chirps as Lindsay follows Courtney out of the tub. "But you two are going to a cheese factory, for Pete's sake! You're going to stink even worse when you get back anyway. What's the point in making you wait around?"_

_I can't help but add in my two cents now. "What's the point?" I ask dryly. "You hate us. That's the point."_

_Lindsay shrugs, but Courtney ignores me, opening her mouth to argue with her unjust removal from the tomato bath. "Can't I just—"_

"_No, Courtney," Chris says snobbily, already walking away. "You can't. So get changed, and get your butt in limo! It's waiting." The limo horn honks on cue, and as an afterthought, Chris turns back to the five of us left in the tomato juice. "Oh, guys!"_

_Everyone perks up a little, hoping for good news._

"_You still have nine hours to go, so get comfortable! You'll be sleeping there tonight!"_ [/italics]

Eight hours and forty minutes later, we were still sitting there; damp, cold, and smelling like garbage bombs and tomato juice. None of us had slept—at least I don't think so—even though it was something around four in the morning by that time. Harold had started wheezing violently at some point, but I'm familiar with the sound of his snores (trust me, it's not something to be proud of) and that wheezing wasn't on the right pitch.

At another point, Leshawna had nearly slapped Harold for hitting on her like he was an fourteenth century knight. At yet another point (unfortunately, there were many to endure), Beth dropped her retainer in the juice, which we were supposed to be drinking for dinner… Yeah, no one felt hungry after that. And even if we were, do you think anyone wanted to drink a pure tomato juice/sweat/Beth's spit concoction? No. Our straws had been abandoned on the grass within the first fifteen minutes of getting stranded.

As for me, there's a lot that you observe when you're stuck in one place with people you don't like for twelve whole hours. You start noticing how Courtney fidgets with the bit of hair that Heather cut off, even though I hid it _amazingly_. You notice that gross mole on the side of Beth's face, and then you want to go blind for the remaining eight (or whatever it was) hours you have left to wait because no matter what you do, you can't stop looking at it. You notice that, even though Lindsay is freaking gorgeous, she's still stupider than my buddy Craig after he's had a few too many. And Craig's an idiot anyway.

And then, when you run out of stuff to notice, you start thinking.

You think about how unfair it is that Courtney and Lindsay got to leave a couple hours early to eat dairy products, whereas you're stuck drinking (or not drinking) your own bath water. You think about the, as Leshawna put it, "OH, SNAP!" moment of the day: When Courtney forced us into a 50/50 split earlier. And then, because you have nothing to do besides sit there thinking, you get yourself worked up into a pissed off frenzy so that you barely hear it when Leshawna says:

"Hey, y'all! It's time!"

It wasn't until Harold elbowed me in the side of my head (an excellent reason to shove a sock in his mouth later that night) that I realized "It's time!" also meant "We're finally allowed to get our asses out of this tub,take a well-deserved shower, and go to bed!"

After about two seconds, we'd all hopped, crawled, flung, and/or rolled ourselves out of the tub, leaving the five of us standing there, dripping red goop onto the grass and wondering what came next, if anything.

After a few moments of standing in silence, Justin voiced what we were all wondering. "It's not…over, is it?" He squinted into the distance before turning around and checking the space behind him. "Just over?"

"Well, I don't see him anywhere," Beth said hesitantly, also looking over her shoulder for our host.

_SCREEEEEEEEEEECH!_

Certain it was Chris dragging his manicured nails down a chalkboard, I whirled around, expecting the worst. In his place, however, was the long, black limo that had whisked Lindsay and Courtney to their cheese factory instead. You can imagine my surprise.

Harold, Leshawna, and Justin were still occupied with searching for everyone's least favorite adult, but Beth and I had frozen where we stood, watching the limo—Beth standing there waiting for Lindsay, and me standing there for… The other obvious reason.

"My _God_, Lindsay!" Courtney was saying, climbing out of the vehicle and attempting to slam the door on the other girl's nose. "It's _chèvre_. Not chee-ver._Chèvre_," she said again, stressing the word. "It's French."

Lindsay blinked a few times, maneuvering around the door (much to Courtney's chagrin) and stepping out of the limo as well. "Wait, chee-ver is French? I thought you said it was cheese."

"NO! Well, yes, Lindsay, but it's _chèv_—" She suddenly looked ahead to where the five of us were still standing, back to Lindsay, and then apparently decided it wasn't worth fighting in front of an audience. "Never mind," she muttered, stalking over the tub and fixing her cold gaze on me. "Why are you out of the juice?"

A direct question from Courtney? To me, it was a surprising change from her other, more recently adopted, "I'm going to do my best to ignore you" attitude. However, after spending a whole night—and part of the morning, too—with Lindsay, I guess I'd be happy to talk to my worst enemy too. Well, no, actually, because in that case, I'd be shot… but you get the point.

In response to her question, I raised my eyebrows and shot her a carefully crafted smirk. "It's been twelve hours, Sweetheart," I said, pointing up at the dark sky above us. "You missed it."

"I _missed _it," she repeated, narrowing her eyes at me threateningly. It was like she was daring me to take it back—like she thought I was kidding, and we were all going to hop back into the tub as soon as she was out of sight.

_HA_. Like I'd get back in that thing again.

"You don't trust me?" I ventured, noticing her unwavering stare and the way her lips had contracted into a dissatisfied pucker.

She rolled her eyes, looking over my shoulder to the other three bozos behind me. "How perceptive of you," she said dryly, flicking her gaze back to me.

I waited for her to say something more, but, for what was possibly the first time ever, it seemed like she was finished. I briefly supposed that keeping up a conversation with Lindsay for nine-plus hours had taken more out of her than I would have thought.

In an attempt at either ending the conversation immediately or keeping it going for as long as possible (I wasn't sure exactly which), I waved a hand in her face to break her out of whatever she'd started thinking about. "You know, if I'm not trustworthy enough, you can always talk to Beth," I pointed out. I jerked a finger in the direction of the short and stout one gossiping with Lindsay, back over where the limo had been before it'd skittered off to who knew where.

The tan girl in front of me grimaced, her face lit up only by the weak light of the moon (maybe it felt as beaten down as we all did) and the fluorescent lights inside the trailers. She moved her eyes past me again and looked over my opposite shoulder to the two airheads, heading into the girls' trailer. Snickering at her less-than-happy response, I started, "What? Do you have a problem with—"

"_BETH!"_ she screeched, finishing my sentence and cutting me off simultaneously. "What do you think you're _doing_?!" She stomped over the base of the trailer stairs, glaring up at Beth on the top step.

The accused girl spun around and looked down at Courtney, just as Lindsay slipped past her to the safety inside. "Courtney?" she asked, opening the door wider and illuminating the girl's livid expression. Beth cringed a bit as she asked, "What's wrong?"

"What's _wrong?" _Courtney mimicked, inspecting Beth from top to bottom. She leaned over and swiped her finger across the top step, coating her finger with tomato juice from the puddle forming under Beth's feet. Stomping up the steps, she shoved her tomato-covered finger in the other girl's face. "_This _is what's wrong. You think you're going to track all _this_ into our trailer?"

Beth opened her mouth, but Courtney's rage seemed to impede her ability to form words. I can't say I blame her; it had happened to me on more than one occasion. "I—"

"Well, you're not going to!" Courtney declared, staring at the liquefied tomato by Beth's feet in disgust. "Our trailer would be smelling of stink-bombs and rotten tomatoes for days! Go take a _shower_."

The look on Beth's face grudgingly acknowledged that Courtney had a point, for she shrugged and trudged back down the stairs with the call of, "I'll be back in a few, Linds!"

A shout of "'Kay!" was heard from somewhere inside.

It was this perky exclamation that brought Leshawna, Justin, and Harold back to the given circumstances. Particularly Justin.

"A shower?" Looking down at himself as if just realizing his beautiful body was drenched in tomato, Justin turned for the washrooms. "Oh God, a shower!" Without another word, he took off sprinting after Beth, presumably to claim one of the four showers in the building. (You think four's bad? Try sharing them with _fourteen _people instead of just six.)

After one look at each other, Leshawna and Harold took off in the same direction. I considered following after them and fighting for a stall—I fight that I could _definitely_ win, mind you—but would it have been right to leave Courtney there all alone?

No. I didn't think so either.

I turned to her as Beth, Justin, Harold, and Leshawna faded into the distance. I could tell she was poised to make a break for it too, crouching like a cat and using her shifty eyes, but I'll take a wild guess and say that her common sense kicked in and told her that she didn't have a chance at catching up on all the lost time.

I say this because a second later, she turned away and stalked back over to her own trailer.

Of course, I felt it was my duty to stop her. "Where're you going?"

She whirled around, leaving a foot on the first step. "Inside," she replied, an implied '_obviously'_ tacked onto the end. She put her other foot on the next step.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" I asked her cryptically, taking a few steps closer.

Somehow, she managed to squint at me in disapproval and raise her eyebrows in confusion at the same time. "Well, why _not_?" she asked, pausing where she stood.

I exaggerated my chuckles solely for the purpose of annoying her. "I don't know exactly when your nose turned off, but you smell _awful_," I began recklessly, hoping she was too tired to dive off the stairs and tackle me. "You'll stink up your cabin more than Beth would."

Her eyes widened slightly—I'd be willing to wager I'm the only person on Earth who could've spotted the tiny response. She was obviously struggling, trying to decide whether she should argue with me or just take my word for it.

When, without further warning, she plopped down onto the steps below, I figured she'd chosen the latter. Looking up at me tiredly (it was only then that I remembered it was sometime around 4:30 in the morning), she cupped her chin in a palm. "Seriously?" she asked flatly, as if already knowing it was true.

I shrugged and made my way over to her, plopping down on the grass about a meter away, ignoring the sploshing sound my wet clothes made on the ground. Nodding, I said, "You smell like stink-bombs, tomatoes, and stinky cheese."

She cursed under her breath. "And all the showers are full. _Great_. That's just what I wanted right now." Of course, that was all sarcasm.

I briefly considered pulling a sappy Trent move (perhaps I could sing a lovely song?), but one look at her face told me she wasn't in the mood, and though I make a hobby out of messing with people who don't want it, I'm also smart enough to know when it could result in the removal of my genitalia. Seasoned veterans like myself have figured out such things.

Unfortunately, it looked like I was going to have to settle for a half-decent conversation if I wanted to keep this girl's interest. "At least Lindsay's rank too," I said, finding a silver lining for her.

"Ugh!" she screamed, flexing her palm at me and turning away. "Don't even say that _name_ right now!" Ashamed by her outburst, she took a moment to collect herself and then said, "I'm done with that girl."

I scooted around on my butt to get back in her line of vision. "All isn't well in Courtneyland?" I asked teasingly, lying back on my forearms.

She rolled her eyes at me, shifting away again. "That _really_ isn't any of your business," she replied, though I could tell she was aching to tell a story.

"All right," I answered nonchalantly. She looked shocked by the early dismissal until I added, "But I hope my staring doesn't make you uncomfortable." She turned to see my eyes lock onto hers. "Because unless you start talking, there's a_lot_ more left to get through."

She narrowed her eyes at me and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "I don't take ultimatums," she announced, a strict finality in her tone.

"Well, I don't take no for an answer."

"_Well_, I never gave you 'no' as an answer."

This put me off for a moment, but I figured it was worth a try when I asked, "Do you want to tell me about Courtneyland's situation?"

She fought to turn her smile into a grimace, replying with a concise, "No."

"You're a liar," I said, bluntly called her on her bluff.

"You're a scoundrel," she countered, snapping her head in my direction.

Then, remembering what I'd spent so much time thinking about over the twelve hours I was stuck in the tomato-tub, I took the plunge and said what I'd been thinking since we escaped the (not) exploding building. "You're a bitch."

Her mouth fell open as I knew it would, and she shot up to stand. "_Excuse me?"_

I stood as well, matching her vicious pose. Being remarkably straightforward, I told her, "You had all our _lives _on the line, and instead of getting us the Hell out of there, you take the time to force us _all_ into a 50/50 money split with you." Then, because she still seemed rather flabbergasted, I added on, "That equals_bitch-_move_."_

She glared down at me since, though we were both standing, she had two trailer steps adding to her height. Scoffing, she said, "I don't see why you people even_care _anymore! It was a completely normal reaction to the circumstances, and I'mnot even holding you to it! It's like nothing even happened in the first place."

"My brain says otherwise." I rolled my eyes at her, trying to make it clear that her explanation wasn't acceptable.

She hopped down one stair, probably so she could better attack me, if the need was to arise. "Your brain isn't fully functional," she retorted, bracing herself for whatever was to come next.

Now, let me interrupt this tension (yeah, sorry) and ask, have you ever felt that saying _something_ to _someone_ was extremely important, but you didn't really get why? This stands for what came next. If you asked me, I don't think I could have told you why I felt it was so important that I got my point across. Honestly, I was ticked off at her for the split myself, and losing her wouldn't have been the worst thing that had ever happened to me. I just didn't want her cheated off again, I guess. The least I could have done was made her aware, which is why, in a rare moment of seriousness, I looked her square in the eye and waited until she returned the stare.

"Look," I started, trying to get my next words across to her. "You can pretend that everything in Courtneyland is well and good, but if you don't want everyone in this game—plus the rest of the world watching this game—hating you forever, there are some serious apologies you need to make. _Soon_," I added for emphasis.

She blinked at me a few times, her eyebrows furrowed. I thought I was starting to get through to her, but she dashed my hopes, turning to me and saying, confident as always, "I don't need to apologize for that. I was playing the game." She turned her back to me and leaned against the trailer. "Like I said, I don't see why you all care."

I walked around the steps and leaned on the trailer too, strategically placing myself so she could see my disapproving expression. "Like _I _said: Bitch. Move."

"Duncan!" she yelled suddenly, jumping off the stairs and landing right in front of me. Seriously—a centimeter more and her toes would have been touching mine. "I don't need this from you right now. I'm tired, I stink, _you _stink, I just listened to Lindsay blabber on for nearly half an entire, 24-hour day, and if I see another piece of cheese, _ever_, I swear I'm going to permanently lose it." She poked a finger in my chest. "I promise you, it would be in your best interest to just _drop this_. NOW."

I leaned into her slightly, watching her intensely. "So…" I considered saying something profound, but instead decided on, "All's _really_ not well in Courtneyland?"

I caught her signature glare of death for just a few seconds before she turned around, muttering things like, "Worthless reprobate."

A loud _slam!, _presumably the door to the communal washrooms, spared me from having to use context clues to figure out what a reprobate was.

Courtney, however, heard the slam too, and like a bullet, she was off to claim the empty shower before I could. Conceding for the time being, I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted at her receding figure. "You should make me part of Courtneyland's Cabinet, or however that crap works! I can be like Obama! Change and hope, baby!"

It wasn't until this ingenious comment received absolutely _no_ response that I first began to wonder if this mess with Courtney was really worth the trouble.

Maybe it was. But on the other hand, maybe it wasn't.


	3. Princess Pride

**Ahaha I realized I forgot to update this week. **

**Well, there's a super good reason why. I have been tied up and then held at gunpoint to write another chapter for Prinzessin. No, seriously. So in exactly a week, on Christmas, prepare for the most brutal, feels-kicking, heartbreaking, best-written chapter yet. And it's all thanks to my new partner in crime, Mel. **

**So, hope to see you reading next week, kiddies ;)**

I stomped through the film set angrily, about to start kicking and/ or killing the next person who dared to cross my path. Stupid Chris. Stupid challenge. Stupid Justin AND stupid Duncan. I hate this competition; people always trying to fool me and everyone was out to get me. First the hair-incident, then the stupid time bomb incident, and now this!

"Ooh, I hate Chris for toying with my emotions and tricking me like that," I whispered to myself while sitting myself down on the trailer steps, resting my head on my hand. It was true, I don't know how I felt at the moment. Justin was definitely out of the picture; in fact, he was never really painted in. All a strategy just to get invincibility. But then Duncan came in... I couldn't even begin to explain exactly what I felt for him. Sure, we'd thought we were in love; but then everything happened so fast, and then Gwen came in, and I'd dumped him...and then there was everything that was happening now...

"Ugh," I groaned, rubbing my temples in an attempt to calm down the whirl of buzzing in my head. I heard a low chuckle from nearby, and my head snapped up; the person who I'd least wanted to see, now in plain sight.

"I knew you still digged me. Can't say I blame you though, who doesn't dig me?" I groaned again, closing my eyes and trying to will myself into believing that this was just my crazy, overactive mind hallucinating.

"Go away Duncan; I'm not in the mood." He merely chuckled again and took a seat next to me, much to my displeasure.

"C'mon, just admit it. You know you still do; everybody knows it." I snorted, shaking my head.

"Since when do I care what everybody else thinks?" I asked reasonably. This time, he was the one to snort.

"A few weeks ago; you know, when your hair was all what you thought was ruined?" I raised my eyebrows, recalling the horrid evening.

"I care, Duncan! I don't like going out in public looking anything less than perfect, were your exact words, I believe," he quoted precisely, mimicking my voice. I rolled my eyes at his inaccurate impersonation.

"Sounds like somebody cares quite a lot what others think."

"Okay, one, I don't sound like that. And two, it shows a lot that you actually remember my sayings, word for word," I concluded snarkily. He chuckled again, resting his arms behind his head in a carefree manner.

"Princess, be logical all you want, but you just gotta learn to accept that you like me." I rolled my eyes, shaking my head at him and groaning once more. Did I like him? How could he know, when I didn't even know it for myself? Sure, he was deeply attractive, and we'd been through so much together; but could I really like him after what had happened with Gwen?

"Just accept it Princess; it's a fact," he repeated, changing his wording slightly. I turned to look at him; putting on my blankest, simplest expressions.

"It is not a fact. It's simply your wishful thinking that you keep dwelling on and try to make happen. Which it wont."

"Ouch. Why don't you think it can happen?" I turned silent, trying to find a reasonable answer. Why couldn't it happen? It could; he would be happy, I think I would be happy, hundreds of fans would be happy, and I'd get everybody off my back. But then there was the more reasonable side to that as well. Last time that I had let it happen I got voted off in order to spite Duncan. And then I had lost my chance over the money, which I wasn't going to let happen again. And if we were to pursue a relationship now, then everybody would be out to get us out. I already heard the idle talk between the girls; trying to get Duncan out in order to spite me. I wasn't going to let either of us lose the chance of winning just to pursue a reckless relationship.

"Because Duncan, I don't like you. Why don't you just accept that?" I added on as a side note. Technically, I wouldn't of considered it as lying, because I honestly couldn't admit that I liked Duncan. Sure, he made my heart flutter. And sure, he was very enticing; but those qualities should just be considered as 'add ons' when taking one's feelings for someone into consideration.

"Trust me Princess, as soon as you mean it, I will," he turned his gaze on me and I had to look away; not wanting to look in his eyes, and be caught in a trance. There we go, another deeming quality to add onto my list.

"Whatever you say Duncan. Oh, and as something that you should know; next time, try not to make it so obvious as when you're drooling over me. It's really degrading; especially on live television." He stammered, trying to find the right words as to not make himself sound like a complete imbecile. He looked so cute when he was frustrated like that; and yet another add on.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about. I was not drooling over you; you give yourself way too much credit," he said hastily. I giggled at his desperate attempts. Why was he even bothering to deny it? I knew it, he knew it, hell, even Justin knew it. Maybe this was how he felt all the time; how he thought I was constantly denying my attraction towards him.

"Sure you were Duncan, you and Justin both." He growled, standing up and beginning to pace; obviously not able to sit still anymore. Was it something I said?

"Don't you go mentioning pretty-boy. That sick bastard wanted to get his hands, and lips, all over you," he bit out menacingly, as if Justin had committed a personal crime against him. Did I mean that much to Duncan? I smiled on the inside, not quite ready to show it yet on the outside. And as if on cue, my heart began to flutter. Sometimes his brashness-especially when it came to me-really knocked the wind out of me; in a good way. I decided to have some fun with this; wasn't everyday Duncan got so jealous, and this would be the beyond perfect opportunity to show him exactly how I felt when he had been with Gwen.

"I think it would be very appropriate to mention Justin, seeing as he has the perfect potential to be my new consort." If there had been water, Duncan would've done a spit-take.

"Please tell me, that in your princess-y vocabulary, consort means piece of shit. Trash would also be acceptable; or just a sick assho-"

"Duncan!" I cut him off, enjoying every single minute of his jealousy. I put on my most serious face, and looked Duncan straight in the eye.

"In your neanderthal vocabulary, consort would mean _boyfriend_. Beau, if you wish. Or how about _my_ adorable little Justie-poo!" I squealed in a very girlie manner; swooning and sighing romantically for impact. I had to keep from puking as I said it, yet it was all worth it to see Duncan's face. It was amazing how fast it changed colors; white, to pink, to scarlet. It was highly entertaining.

"Are you out of your _fucking mind_! Why _the hell_ would you consider that douche-bag of a wimp boyfriend material?! Since when did you have the audacity to even think of liking him!?" I crossed my arms, thankful for the many acting classes I'd taken in Junior High.

"Goodness Duncan, don't yell at me like that. We aren't going out anymore; I have the right to like and or go out with anybody I want, and there's nothing you can do about it." His nose flared and I was sure, that if this had been any other person he was talking to, he would've killed them by now.

"Like hell is there nothing I can do about it!" His expression and the way he was acting made me break my acting bubble. I couldn't help it; I started laughing. And not my usual giggle, or simple snort. No this time, it was full on out laughter; I'm talking about hard, hands clutching my stomach, tears falling out of my eyes laughter. And this only infuriated him more.

"Would you care telling me what the hell is so funny?" I shook my head, wiping away the tears from my eyes, and trying to get my breathing back to normal.

"I made all that up. And now you've just proved to me that you really are jealous," I explained giddily. He sighed, seeing as he couldn't weasel his way out of it.

"Well do you blame me? You're all dressed up and gorgeous; what with yourprincess dress, and the crown-"

"It's a tiara," I interrupted not knowing how much more flattery I could take without going red in the face, but he put his hand over my mouth and kept me from interrupting again.

"Anyways, he's trying to get his freaking girly hands all over you, and you were encouraging it! You wanted him to kiss him!"

"No! It was all strategy! I wasn't planning to do anything with him; besides, do you think Chris would really allow a 'happy ending'? Of course not!"

"I don't know what to think. I've been kinda..distracted today." I snorted.

"I could tell." He sighed and sat down again, running his hand through his mohawk.

"You caught me off guard today. I didn't know that you were gonna dress up like that, or sing like that for that matter. Damn girl, you got some pipes on you. How come I didn't know you could sing like that?" This time it was my turn to sigh; I didn't like people knowing that I could sing, it was a secret hobby of mine. But it was a private hobby that I didn't let anyone know about.

"I can't. I was lip syncing."

"Who do you think you're fooling?"

"No really, I can't sing for crap. Chris just forced me to dress up, told me to learn the lyrics so I could lip sync just so he could make some more money off TV advertising." Duncan looked at me skeptically, and I had to turn away. How could he tell that I was lying? Oh, thats right, because he knew how to read me like a freaking book.

"Really then? Then I triple dog dare you to sing a bar for me, right now, just so you can prove to me that you can't sing." I blanched, and he smirked.

"No, that's preposterous!"

"C'mon, nobody's here. The cameras are finished filming for the day, and every other contestant is currently in the infirmary for the night. It's just you and me baby," he assured smoothly, leaning forward expectantly.

"No way. Besides, you got crushed by the monster, why aren't you in the infirmary?"

"I can take a fall for my Princess." I was speechless; was he just playing around, or did I really mean that much to him? I took a quick glance at his face, and he seemed completely serious.

"I think that monster crushed your small cranium even smaller than it was before," I retorted shakily, my palms starting to sweat and shake out of nerves. All of a sudden my head started to ache, and I was convinced it was because of the damned tiara I was still wearing. Jittery, I took the tiara off my head and shook my hair out, brushing out the small knots the tiara had formed. I turned to see Duncan scrutinizing me with a curious look on his face.

"Can I have a decent response why you don't want to be with me?" he asked suddenly, totally off the topic we'd just been discussing. My head started to buzz again, two different arguments forming. I groaned quietly, pushing my hair back from my face and placing the tiara daintily on my lap.

"Okay, fine. Hypothetically, of course, if I did like you it would completely get in the way of the competition. It's already happened once, and I'm not letting it happen again."

"Well, we're stronger now. I've seen you kick major ass; and if we were to vote together, and be together we could still manage to cause some major damage to the competition." He didn't get it. What if this stupid plan were to work, and then we were both to make it into the final two? I could fight him, but I'd seen him attempt to fight me before. He couldn't keep his head on straight. Hell, all I'd have to do was wear my bra and panties to the finale, and he'd be so out of it, I would win hands down. DIdn't he see that I didn't want to ruin his chances at the competition.

"And what if we were to make it into the final two Duncan? Then what?"

"We could play fair." I snorted, resting my chin on my palm again. I could see how frustrated he was getting with the conversation; obviously not getting through to me one bit.

"Yeah? And what if I were to put the money before you again? Where would that put us? I'll tell you where, ruined. Couples and competitions don't work out. Look at Leshawna and Harold, Bridgette and Geoff, Trent and your beloved Gwe-"

"Don't even go there," he cut off. "I don't know what the hell is going on through that head of yours, but I _swear_ that absolutely nothing happened between Gwen and me." He looked at me for any sort of response, but I remained stubborn. He sighed frustratedly, and stood.

"I don't even know why I asked you in the first place. You're just-"

"Not worth it?" I interrupted glumly, lowering my head; a response I'd heard many times before. Not just from boys, but from my parents as well. The memories put me into a feeling of contempt; recalling the bitter words and scornful tones. The disparagement in their eyes; I shuddered, feeling tears rise up, but desperately trying to push them back down. I snapped out of my reverie when a thumb jerked my chin up, forcing me to look into worried blue orbs. Something in my eyes made Duncan grab my hand and pull me up against him, wrapping his arms around me tight. I fought my screaming mind, and wrapped my arms around his muscled torso, breathing deeply all the while. He pulled back and wiped his thumb across my cheek; and it was only then that I'd realized that a few tears had escaped my watchful conscience.

"Don't you even think that Princess. If you weren't worth it, I wouldn't have tried so hard in the past, and wouldn't still be trying now. I like you, and I'm not giving up anytime soon, not until you give in and you're mine. Keep that in mind." He pulled back and lay a chaste, sweet kiss on my temple, leaving me to hold back a slight whimper. He reached down, and plucked the tiara off the floor, placing it gently on my head soon after.

"That's where that crown belongs. It suits you well, you know." I nodded, my voice temporarily gone.

"You look worn out, why don't you get to bed?" I nodded again, barely able to choke out a 'good night' before entering my trailer.

I'd finally figured it out. The heart-fluttering, the sweaty palms, the headache, the inability to speak properly. Especially the jealousy, and even the raging mind conversations. I smiled, touching my hand to my forehead; the exact spot where he'd kissed me. I felt like an obsessed fan girl of a star who'd just accidentally touched her; vowing never to wash the spot ever again. I'd just become sure.

I like Duncan.


	4. Crouching Courtney, Hidden Owen

**A/N: I love this chapter. Sorry for the long wait, but I was giving the new chapter of Prinzessin its run in the spotlight. I hope you guys like it, please read and leave your feedback. Also, I have a question for you all. Would you guys like me to write the missing chapters? Right now, this is the last chapter. But there are other episodes (Ocean's Eight or Nine, Million Dollar Babies, Super Hero-ld, Get a Clue, etc.) that could be written and potentially be good, but I'd be the only one writing them. So if you guys want to see them, then let me know in the reviews, otherwise this will be the last chapter!**

It was sickening. It was horrendous. It was one of the worst things I'd ever gotten into. No, it was not a bird, nor was it a plane. It was my alliance with _Beth_. The girls' alliance.

I clenched my fists, mentally hoping karma would attack that girl sometime in the near future; it wouldn't do if the event occurred after she'd already lost the competition (she _would _lose, I would see to it) and gone home. I wanted to see her get what was coming to her. Correction: I _really _wanted to see her get what was coming to her. I would watch the event, and I would laugh, and then I would tell Beth that she was only getting what she deserved and that if she had been a better, more reasonable person, it wouldn't have come to her, thus the definition of karma.

Arguably, I'll admit, this could have been said for me as well, but _I _was the one on the roof.

Yes, the roof. I'd known this was coming as soon as Beth abandoned me to fight the killer octopus alone while she abused my poor PDA, but I had never imagined it would get this out of control.

_That's okay because I'm counter-_counter_-manipulating her! _A counter-top, I'd called it in the Make-up Confessional. Oh, how I wished I could eat my words. The whole world would undoubtedly think I was okay with this arrangement, but this was so _not_ okay. Beth was obviously getting her kicks, enjoying the power she thought she had over me.

She manipulating me, but I knew about it, so maybe it wasn't manipulation after all. I really wasn't sure.

It had started with the seafood debacle, but it hadn't stopped! Next, she'd wanted to use my private bathroom, and that night, she'd invited herself to my gourmet lobster dinner. Then, having gained more courage, she'd insisted on sleeping in_my _bunk; the bunk with the fancy bedding and goose-down pillows. And, of course, for the sake of my alliance, I'd had to say yes. I had to let her believe she was in control; I had to suck it up and roll with the punches. Her punches, however, were much harder than I ever would have predicted, and it was really, for lack of better words, pissing me off.

I'd concocted a personal theory, which was that, after the abuse she received from Heather in the first season, Beth's psyche was trying to reestablish its dominance, choosing whoever it could get to be its victim. My theory had been proved later, the same evening of the kung-fu challenge. "Courtney?" she'd asked me. "Would you get me some chips from Craft Services? I would, but—" She took the time to gesture to my PDA in her hand and smiled. "—you know I have Brady on the phone here, and I'm _super _hungry!"

Strangling her with my imagination, I'd said, "No problem, _girl!_" putting the stress on the word _girl _as a friend would do. I'd exited the trailer on my own, muttering to myself about _déjà vu_ and how Beth's psyche was undoubtedly imitating Heather's exploitation. I mean, having me steal chips? How much more copy-cat could it have gotten? I'd figured it wouldn't be long until she was sporting a hideous wig in the fashion of Heather herself. I snorted; a wig would be an improvement on her hideous side-ponytail. Retro-cool, it was not. Retro-fool, on the other hand, was the very definition of Beth.

What killed me, though, was that in this new version of affairs, _I_ was Beth! _Me!_ It was outrageous, but it was true. In a very Beth-like manner, I'd smiled kindly, snuck into Chef's domain, snatched a bag of chips, and returned, upon which Beth, in a very Heather-like manner, had flippantly thanked me and continued utilizing _my_ PDA.

At that point, I'd believed I'd wanted to kill her, but this event ended up grouped with many others that didn't even begin to compare: Chris forgetting to tell me that my private shower had no heat only _after_I'd already turned on the water?_Nah_. Seeing that video of Duncan and Gwen wrestling under the stars? _Pfft_. Getting accused of "murdering" Chris, and Lindsay winning the challenge? _Not even close_. Not until I found myself on the roof did I know precisely what it felt like to _really _want to kill someone.

I sat there on the metallic ceiling of our shared trailer, a hammer in one hand and a scrap of metal in the other. "Why don't you go fix that leak, Courtney?" I hissed, mimicking Beth and her lisping-but-somehow-not-lisping voice. "Why not? Yeah, I know the leak's over the sink and it's not a problem _at all_, but I think you should fix it anyway!" I paused, having just noticed that my complaints had grown from a whisper to a scream over the course of three sentences.

Reverting back to my own tones, I did nothing more than groan and attack the roof with my hammer. I was nowhere near the location of the leak, but I needed to take my anger out on something, and I figured the roof had so many dents already, one more wouldn't hurt anything.

I tried to locate the leak, but the glare ricocheting off the metal nearly blinded me. Just my luck, it was one of those awful days, where the sky was so covered by clouds that I couldn't see the sun, yet it was still painfully bright. I hated that sort of weather, and it only added to the irritated frenzy I was in the process of working myself into.

I put my hands to my forehead in the shape of a visor in order to scan the roof, sighing in triumph when I found the actual source of the leak: a miniscule hole on the left side of the trailer. After crawling over carefully so as to avoid slipping and falling to a gruesome death, I sat down on the backs of my legs and stared at the hole angrily. Mocking me, it was. "Haha!" it said. "You're fixing me for _Beth!_What's wrong with you?"

"It's for the alliance," I said, trying to calm myself. "For the alliance, for the alliance, for the alliance… You want a million dollars, don't you, Courtney? Of course you do." I took a deep breath, picked up the hammer, and proceeded to beat the crap out of the area around the leak. "There." I paused, breathing heavily. "Do you feel better?"

Momentarily satisfied, I put the hammer down and surveyed the film lot. Judging by the damp feel of the air, a storm was on its way for sure; that must have been what had prompted Beth to send me out there in the first place. The dripping water was disrupting her sleep, she'd told me. Before, she'd asked to merely borrow some earplugs, but there was absolutely no way her earwax was getting on_my_earplugs! That would have been crossing the line, so I lied and told her I only had one pair. It was coming back to bite me, though, seeing as she'd quote-unquote "suggested" I go fix the roof, and I had no excuse not to.

So there I was. On the roof. I just prayed to God it didn't start raining while I was still up there.

I turned my gaze to the sky above me and made a face at its dreadful gray color, which certainly foreshadowed terrible things. Quickly resolving not to be caught out on a metal roof in a lightning storm, I turned back to the hole and got to work, laying down the scrap metal and hammering it into place. This dented in our ceiling even farther that it already was, and I was no carpenter, so I had no idea if this was what I was supposed to be doing or not, but Beth didn't care. She just wanted her stupid leak fixed.

It was then that a drop of water fell directly onto the back of my head.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I screeched, turning my face to the clouds that loomed above me. A couple more drops fell on my face, quickly followed by a full on downpour of water from the heavens. "Arghh!"

"Hey, Courtney!" someone called from the ground below me. I crawled over to the edge of the trailer and looked down to see Beth poking her head out our door, wincing from the unexpected monsoon. "Whoa. It's raining!" she proclaimed.

"No, duh," I muttered before I could stop myself. Fortunately, she didn't hear me over the plinking sounds the raindrops made on the two trailers. I cleared my throat and moved a bit of hair that had matted itself to the side of my face. "Yeah," I yelled down to her, putting a slight whine in my voice as I did so. "It's _really_wet up here! All my clothes with be completely _ruined _if I stay out here for too much longer!" Subtle nudging, I thought. That was all Beth needed, and she'd tell me to come down. I'd be out of the rain, and my alliance would still be standing. Perfect plan.

I watched her expectantly, trying to keep my internal fury under control. Beth's eyebrows furrowed and she screwed up her face, apparently thinking hard. _Could it be true? _I wondered, watching Beth quizzically from my vantage point. _Has she developed a renewed conscience over the past half an hour? Could she be out here to tell me to come back inside? _I made a note to politely thank her once she'd helped me down, and then I would trick _her _into going out tomorrow to fix the roof. Genius!

"Wow," Beth said, looking back up at my pathetically drenched form. "Well, I wanted to tell you that the leak's still leaking, so whatever you're doing isn't really working." She pulled her head back into the safety of the trailer.

I was still sitting there frozen, halfway through mentally chopping her head off, when the door opened a crack and said head popped out a second time. "Oh, Courtney!" she started once more.

"Yes…?" I prompted, raising my eyebrows and giving her my best "Get me out of the rain or _feel my wrath!_" face, though I doubt she saw it through the rapidly escalating rainfall.

She blinked a couple of times before opening her mouth. "I hope you don't get too wet while you're up there! And good luck." The door slammed shut, and I knew it was over. She'd covered her butt by hoping I didn't get wet (as if _that_would make any difference at all!), and she was gone, not to be satisfied until the roof no longer dripped drops.

To put it quite simply, I screamed very loudly and pounded at that piece of scrap metal until the possibility of water getting past it was approximately negative one thousand.

"Courtney!"

_Her again_. Perhaps she'd come to hope I didn't get electrocuted, stranded on a metal surface as I was. _"_WHAT DO YOU WANT, BETH?" I screamed over a huge clap of thunder, not bothering to look at her and her supposedly innocent face.  
"Sweetheart, this isn't Beth," the voice replied. It was screaming to be heard over the rain, but it managed to sound somewhat calm, chuckling.

I whipped around, prompting a collection of water drops to fly from my face, only to be replaced seconds later by fresh ones. "Duncan?" I asked, though I already knew beyond a doubt that it was him. No one else had the nerve to call me "sweetheart."

He jogged back a few steps through the mud so he could get a better view of the roof and, consequently, me. "What are you doing up there?" he asked, the expressions "amused" and "baffled" fighting for control of his face. I noticed that he held a bag of chips in his hands, and my fury towards Beth was instantly increased, twofold. My bet was that I'd never be able to look at that chip brand again without remembering the girl's tyranny.

"I'm fixi—!" I cut myself off, though, not wanting to finish such a sentence. Admitting to anyone that I was on a metallic roof in the middle of a thunderstorm fixing a leak in a roof for _Beth_ just sounded far too pathetic to my own ears, let alone anyone else's. "What I'm doing on this roof isn't any of your business!" I screamed down instead. Anything to make him go away so I could find my own way down and retreat into a place with a ceiling.

Duncan wiped some rain off his forehead. "You look like a cat that got thrown into a swimming pool!" he announced.

_What a complement. _"That's because I'm all wet!"I growled from where I knelt on the roof. A tree above me chose to empty a load of water onto my head at that exact moment, further illustrating my point.

He paused a second, sniggering to himself, and then put his blue eyes on mine. "Well, I knew I was hot, but I didn't know I could get you turned on so quickly!" He gestured to his shirt, plastered to his chest from the rain.

By that point, the roof was growing slippery at an alarming pace, so I hammered a steep dent into it and latched on. "That's one of the most random things I've ever heard!" I yelled down to him. It was possible that I'd heard him wrong, but what I_thought_ he'd just said didn't contain a single hint of logic.

"It's not random!" he retorted over the plinking of the rain. "I show up, and then you're _wet_. I'm turning you on!" he said jokingly, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

I might have laughed, except he still wasn't making any sense. _Well, actually_, I later amended, I probably would have thrown my hammer at him instead, because his jokes were more often offensive than funny. "I was wet way before you showed up, Duncan!" I replied over the pounding rain. A lightning bolt extended down somewhere across the film lot, and I felt the beginnings of a self-induced panic attack coming on.

Duncan rolled his eyes, implying that there was something I wasn't getting. "Damn," he said, still continuing the joke and obviously willing me to understand. "You must be really horny then!"

God, how I wanted to get off that roof. "I have no idea what you're talking about! How horny I _am_ or am _not_ has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I'm wet right now!" To figure out how far away a storm was, you were supposed to count the seconds from the lightening to the thunder, right? I resolved to start counting at the next bolt.

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" Duncan asked irritably, safe where he was on the ground. I shrugged at him, which he took as a cue to continue. "I show up, and then you tell me you're _wet._" He put an emphasis on the word, but it was lost on me and my alarmed mind. "Guys get hard-ons, girls…" He trailed off suggestively, waving his hand around in some sort of explanation, but I stared at him blankly. "Geez, it's not even funny anymore!" he yelled after a second. "Why do you have to be such a prude?!"

I sneered at him, though the hair stuck to my face likely hid it. "It's not my fault your jokes aren't funn—!" And then it clicked. I had reached understanding, and like usual, I was offended.

"Oh my god!" I screeched. "You're such a pervert! Why would you even feel the need to bring up something like that?!"

Duncan smirked, pleased to see that his sexual innuendo hadn't gone completely to waste. "It's all worth it to see the look on your face!" he yelled, sticking his tongue out at me and catching several raindrops in the process.

"_JERK!_" I yelled, then calming down enough to add, "You're already facing one life-threatening situation today. You don't want to make it two."

"Are you calling yourself threatening, Kitten?" he asked cheekily, as if the very idea was preposterous.

With a loud battle cry,I felt through the puddles on the roof, found the hammer, and chucked it straight at his head. It would have hit him, too, if it weren't for his advanced, juvenile delinquent-brand reflexes.

Duncan ducked down and retrieved the object from a mud puddle, bringing it close to his face and squinting through the torrent of rain. It took him a while to identify it, in which time I'd formed a half-baked plan of escape involving a double back layout from my gymnastics days and the tree beside me. He tilted his head up to me finally and called, "A hammer? What the hell do you have a hammer for?!"

"I already told you," I started, evaluating the sopping tree and deciding it would work just fine, "that's none of your business!"

He gaped at me before folding his arms crossly. "Have fun getting electrocuted, then!"

"Shoot," I hissed under my breath. I'd forgotten to keep a lookout for the next lightning bolt. I turned my gaze to where I'd seen the last one just as another extended down from the sky. _One Mississ—_

_BANG!_

Unfortunately, it looked like the storm was right on top of us, meaning that the likelihood of getting electrocuted had become exponentially higher than it had been ten minutes ago.

Duncan stared at me for a second before asking, "How are you going to get down?"

I stood up, pulled my hair out of my face, and turned to him resolutely. "I'm going to do a double back layout, which, if I've thought it through correctly, will put me at the perfect angle to grab onto that branch—" I pointed to the tree. "—which will bend under my weight and lower me to the ground."

Duncan looked at me like I was crazy. I had to admit, I was so far gone by this point that it was definitely a possibility. "That's stupid!" he screamed, trying to straighten up his Mohawk, which had gone limp to one side. "You're going to kill yourself!" He opened his mouth, presumably to add some snarky comment about how he wouldn't mind it if I were to die, but he seemed to decide against it.

"Well, I can't do what I did to get up here the first time!" I called back to him, trying to find my bearings on the uneven roof.

"Why not!?" Another crack of lightening found a hole through the clouds, and Duncan winced at the thunder that followed immediately.

It wasn't until then that I realized he was putting himself at nearly as much risk as I was, standing outside as it were. Lightening was _supposed _to strike the highest thing, which was me, but there had been scientific controversy over that… I cast the notion aside, intent on executing my double back layout before either of us died. "Beth helped me up here! Do you see her around here anywhere!?" I hollered bitterly. "No, you don't, do you?!"

Duncan watched me for a few seconds, apparently struggling with himself. "Let me help you down, then." He'd said it more quietly, but I'd been able to make out every word.

I paused for a moment, considering saying yes, but I then decided against acceptance. To take his aid would be to admit failure, and that wouldn't have been tolerable. "I don't want your help!" I screamed. "Just go inside your own trailer and leave me alone!"

The traces of worry previously on his features were instantly replaced by those of frustration. "You're being an idiot! Doing a double front pike—"

"It's a back layou—!"

"Doesn't matter!" He cut me off just as I'd done to him. "It's suicide! Just let me help you down!" He walked closer, ending up nearly flat against the trailer wall.

"Not a chance!" I raised my arms above my head, preparing for the stunt. I took a few deep breaths, but Duncan's gaze, focused on me through the rain, was distracting me. "Seriously, Duncan, if this is going to work, I need you to leave! I can't focus!"

Duncan sighed and looked at me furiously, blinking the water out of his eyes. "You know what? All right! But when you slip and crack your skull open, don't try and tell me I didn't try to help you!"

Even in my hysterical state, I couldn't help but take a crack at him. "If I cracked my skull open, I don't think I'd be telling you anything, you dolt."

He nearly smiled, but caught himself just in time to turn it into a grimace. "Okay then. It's your funeral!" Without any more words of protest, he turned around and left for his own trailer.

A deep breath. A few steps forward. Pushing off my hands. Flying through the air. Grasping the tree branch.

It all happened in a few seconds, carrying itself off without a hitch. I hung off the tree branch, waiting for it to lower me gently to the ground so I could find Duncan and gloat over my plan's success, but I found myself facing a dilemma: The branch wasn't bending. At all.

I looked to the ground, which seemed _much_ farther away than it had from the trailer roof. "SHIT!" I cursed, against my common policy of clean language. I struggled to get a better grip on the soggy bark beneath my hands, feeling myself begin to hyperventilate. "I'm screwed, I'm screwed, I'm screwed, I'm screwed…" I would fall to the ground and crack my head open, making me unable to tell Duncan that he hadn't tried to help me, just as he had predicted.

But then: "Hah! Told you it wouldn't work!"

I shrieked uncontrollably from where I hung.

"Courtney, relax!" I flailed around, searching the ground for Duncan's fluorescent Mohawk, eventually finding it directly below me. "Courtney! Courtney, stop, you're going to crack that twig!"

_It's just as well_, my depressed brain told me. At least my death would be quick and painless that way. I continued screaming, though I was hardly even aware of it at this point. I couldn't even hear myself over the torrential downpour around me. Where was Noah when you needed him?

"PRINCESS, IF YOU WANT TO LIVE, YOU NEED TO _SHUT THE HELL UP_ AND _LISTEN TO ME!"_

And for some reason, at those words, my brain managed to communicate with my mouth enough so that it closed, and my ears enough so that they opened. I thought it might have been because of the pet name, but I _really_ hoped that I was incorrect in that assumption.

"Finally!" Duncan muttered below me. Then he yelled up, "Okay, Courtney, all I want you to do right now is _let go._"

"_WHAT?!_" Did he want me to die? He probably did. They all did! Stupid competition, turning everyone into vicious pythons…

I felt myself breaking into hysterics, and my brain instantly went in to overdrive, concocting conspiracy theories. That must have been why Beth had left me on the roof, even after it had started raining. She_wanted_ to kill me. It was so obvious! She knew about the risks of being up on a metal roof in a lightning storm, and sent me out accordingly _so I would die_. _Oh my god,_ I thought. I was literally going to die. Cause of death: a stupid alliance! If I did, in fact, live, I would make her life a living hell, that was for sure.

Duncan cupped his arms around his mouth, probably assuming I hadn't heard him, and repeated himself. "Let go!" Oh, I'd heard him, but that was not an idea that would fly with me. Not possible.

"No! _That_ right there is what would be suicide!" I shrieked, pulling myself up higher to maintain my grip on the branch. A small _crack! _made its way to my ears, and I whimpered.

"It's not!" Duncan called, the hints of desperation creeping into his vocals. "Believe me! You just have to do it!"

"I…I can't!" I screamed, my eyes relieving themselves of a couple tears, which promptly mixed in with the rain. I found that I was beyond caring about what he thought of me. This was merely a matter of willpower, and I didn't think I had enough left to execute a second stunt. My brain had completely lost control of my hands.

Duncan was silent below me for a long time. Several minutes passed, yet they felt like hours, and I'd begun to wonder if he had just left me to die all on my lonesome, when he spoke again. "Are you still with me, babe?" he asked.  
I tried to reply, but my throat seemed to have constricted of its own accord. I nodded instead and hoped he could see the weak motion.

"Good." Apparently, he had good eyesight. "Now imagine: That whole tree is made of _green gelatin!"_

I wasn't aware of myself shrieking nor letting go of the branch, and I only realized that I was back on land when I'd yanked my head up and found myself caught in Duncan's arms, bridal style. We stared at each other for a moment, his blue eyes boring into my dark, wet ones. I hesitantly wrapped my own arms around his neck but was careful to keep my head away from his chest. That was just too close for comfort at the moment.

I swallowed, and upon finding that my throat had regained function, said simply, "You caught me."

Duncan rolled his eyes, but his mouth curved itself into a smirk. "Way to state the obvious." I tried to summon the valor needed for pulling off the thank you that was necessary, but Duncan carried me to my trailer door and threw it open before I managed to spit anything out.

"I know," Beth was sniggering into my PDA, lying on a top bunk with her feet in the air. "I'm pretty sure she's still on the roof, but I'm not really worried abou—" Beth cut herself off at the sight of Duncan, soaked, carrying me (also soaked) into the trailer, bridal style. "…Hey, Brady?" she said, not taking her eyes off the two of us. "I have to go."

Duncan deposited me on the nearest bed before turning to Beth and fixing her with a murderous glare. "I hope you're happy," he said bluntly, walking out of the door a second later. It hadn't been much, but his actions somehow spoke volumes to both myself _and_ Beth.

I threw my hands to my face and wiped the remaining water off it, mourning my soiled clothes, not to mention my soiled reputation. I then rolled over to face Beth, fixing her with a look that I hoped was as murderous as Duncan's had just been.

Beth attempted a smile, but her eyes looked like those of a child who'd been caught feeding her vegetables to the family dog. "Thanks for fixing the leak, _Bestie_!" she said after a second in an obvious attempt at reconciliation.

I shook my head at her slightly, snatched my PDA out of her unsuspecting hands, and returned to the waterlogged bunk. "You owe me one, Beth," I said, trying to keep the malice out of my voice. "You _really _owe me one."


End file.
